


Do what thou wilt

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Strange Angel
Genre: F/M, susan deserves better sex, the goat deserved better too, what's more important than trust between neighbors?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 22:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14963285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: A short scene between Susan and Ernest while Jack ist not at home. The goat makes an appearance but I am afraid that her fate might still be the same here.





	Do what thou wilt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SNQA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SNQA/gifts).



> It's the first time that I write something else than Homeland fanfic and I have no idea where this will go and if there will be more or not. But it was a fun experience to pen this short scene down and to think about what turn the story on screen could take.

The days she’s spending alone stretch out, a minute feels like an hour, an hour like a day, and when it’s late afternoon she feels the weight of all the unspoken words heavy on her shoulders.

She could do more work for her father, they need the money but that would mean spending more hours listening to his demands towards Jack.

Jack who promised to be home early today.

Feeling restless, she steps out of the house into the small backyard, it’s not even a garden, just a patch of grass and a wooden fence, broken since they moved in. Just another one of the chores Jack promised to take care of, tomorrow, next week, another day.

Susan remembers the day they arrived here, as newlyweds and the whispered promises they made to each other during their first night in that house, the laughter, the hope, how they believed in a future which held success. Success for Jack. For herself - she can’t remember.

The air is thick and humid, like a blanket, and being outside doesn’t bring the relief of fresh air. It’s as hot and sticky as it was inside.

The sky has a light blue colour which is almost grey and it will be hours until the sun finally disappears and the night will bring some comfort.

She steps over to the clothesline and starts collecting and folding the large linen sheets, their white already fading, four years into their marriage, wondering if they’ll ever be able to afford new ones as Jack is literally blowing all their money - and money they don’t have - into the sky.

A short and rare breeze lifts her skirt for a brief moment, the desert wind caressing her legs, making her feel a longing for more.

She closes her eyes and enjoys the gust of wind playing with her skirt, the fabric waving along her skin, tickling her, goosebumps rising and subsiding.

_Bless me, Father, for I have sinned._

A sudden movement near her legs drags her out of her daydream, the sweet throbbing tingle between her legs causing a smile to play around her lips.

But before she can turn her head to locate the source of the movement she feels a soft tickle along her legs, a warm body pressing against her calf, and hears the little goat she finds there seeking shelter bleating.

The sheets in front of her part like a curtain, two large hands with dirty knuckles, their new neighbor standing right there.

He stares at her and doesn’t speak, and later she’ll think it couldn’t have been for too long, but for now it feels like hours.

She wants to speak but can’t, her tongue feels suddenly dry and thick, sticking to the roof of her mouth so that she has to swallow around it.

He bends down and reaches for the small furry ball between her legs, and she wishes she could keep her.

Securing the animal under one arm Ernest stays on his knees, next to her leg and closes his hand around her ankle, the sudden pressure sending a jolt of electricity through her body.

“Mrs Parsons,” he whispers, drawing his hand over her skin, just the tips of his fingers, all the way up to her knees and then further.

She knows she should turn away and leave. She knows this isn’t _appropriate_.

It’s _wrong_ in so many ways.

“Mrs Parsons,” he repeats, his fingers trailing from her knee to the inside of her thigh, “tell me your name, beautiful goddess.”

“It’s Susan,” she whispers, unable to move, her eyes locked with his, glacier blue with a tempting glint as his fingers venture forward, so dangerously close now and she can’t turn away, she just can’t.

“Susan. Shoshana. Persian lily. A rose. A beautiful rose.”

The tension is so sweet and so unbearable, it’s so forbidden, and she knows how Eve felt, it’s the forbidden fruit, heat on her leg, between her legs, a finger grazing over the layer of fabric of her knickers making her gasp.

“And you know it. Question is - does your husband know it too, Susan, beautiful rose?” The voice is soothing and luring, two fingers drawing lazy circles on her skin, finally coming closer and then closer.

Time draws out, a flowing river, the syrupy golden light of the late afternoon, every second a gift, a sheen of small beads of sweat appearing on her upper lip as she bites her lower lip, just when a small sigh escapes her.

“Close your eyes Susan. You know what they say? Do what thou wilt. You know what that means?” His voice is a charged whisper now, pressing and urgent, and she feels glued to her spot, the sun burning on her skin relentlessly.

“You know what that means, beautiful lily? Leave your concerns behind you. Just let go. You _want_ to let go.”

And with that she feels the sweetest of all touches, he’d slipped a single finger under the fabric, drawing circles, her knees weak as he ups the pace, his breathing ragged now as well.

That’s the one moment - and the next the goat is bleating, wiggles away and gets free, he pulls his hand away and catches her and the spell is broken.

With her knees shaking she rushes to the backdoor, _Father, I have sinned_ \- and when she turns around he’s already on the other side of the fence, the goat under his arm. He watches her, calm and unmoved, and when she looks at him he raises that finger to his mouth and licks it, his eyes boring into hers.

“Sweet,” he calls over the fence and sucks that finger again and then he turns around and walks into his garage, the goat bleating miserably.

She retreats inside the house, the sticky heat killing her, she collapses on the bed and lifts her skirt, her hand disappears under the firm fabric of her knickers, two fingers, her own breathing ragged and urgent as she finishes what she’s been promised while she sees that intense blue stare behind her closed lids.

_“Do what thou wilt.”_

She releases with a soft scream, her skin flushed, her fingers wet now, the throbbing longing between her legs not yet fully sated.

“Susan. Are you alright? I’m back. Sue?”

It’s almost too late but she manages to pull her skirt down and be by the kitchen sink the moment her husband steps in, washing her hands while there’s a storm raging inside her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my dear friend Sydney who not only edited this fic but also made [these gif for our blog](http://findmyrupertfriend.com/tagged/strangeangeledit)


End file.
